


Flawed Imperfections (Revised)

by theuncertainauthor



Series: Revised Stories [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-05 15:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theuncertainauthor/pseuds/theuncertainauthor





	Flawed Imperfections (Revised)

"Goodbye for a long time!"

Connor slammed the door behind him, a hide grin spreading across his face. He popped his trunk, shoved his stuff in there, and hopped in the car after closing it.

He plugged his phone into the aux and started playing one of his favourite songs. The soft, repetitive piano filled his car as he started up the engine.

_Guess I'm going to drive until I've nowhere to go._

 

* * *

 

Connor saw a sign for a town to the right. He pulled into the turn lane and started down the road.

After a little bit, he reached the small town of Tranquilidade. It was quaint, with trees precisely placed alone the sidewalk, little streetlights in between said trees. People walked in groups along the sidewalk, chattering quietly. Connor noticed a small café on a street corner, a couple sitting outside staring lovingly at each other.

He turned his attention back to the road. He saw a sign for a hotel and stopped there.

"Hi! Welcome to out humble little town. Would you like a room?"

Connor nodded and couldn't help the small grin that curled the corners of his lips at her slightly southern accent.

After he paid, she gave him a small key with the number "207" on it. He smiled at her, grabbed his bag, and headed upstairs.

He opened the door to his room and immediately grinned at the sight of it. It was small, with a single queen bed facing a TV mounted on the wall and a window to the left of the bed. To the right, a door led to a small bathroom, a closet right across from it.

Filled with exhaustion, Connor dropped down onto the bed and stared out of the window at the night sky until he fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Connor drowsily opened his eyes. He was greeted with the sight of the beige wall. He sat up, slightly confused before he remembered where he was. He turned and looked out of the window again, smiling at the sight of the busy little street below. 

He got up and got ready before heading down to eat breakfast. Eggs, sausage, a muffin, and coffee. It felt so good to be able to eat real food again, and Connor _reveled_ in it.

After his meal, he got in his car to drive around the town and see what they had to offer.

The first thing that caught his eye was a studio that claimed to accommodate all artists; dancers, singers, painter, writers, the whole nine. He parked and went inside. 

He was greeted with the faint scent of apple-cinnamon pie and a blast of cool air. He looked around a bit and walked up to the from desk. 

"Hello?"

The lady at the desk raised her head and smiled at him. "Well hello there! I would assume you would like a tour?"

He nodded and she smiled wider as she got up to show him around. "So, tell me about yourself. You're new. What's your name?" She questioned.

"W-Well, I'm Connor Mu-Murphy. I-I arrived here yest-yesterday," He stammered.

She nodded. "Well, this is the art room, this is the recording studio, and this is the dance room! I asume you dance, correct?" She asked.

"Yeah, ho-how did you know?"

She chuckled, the sound reminded Connor of wind chimes. "The way you walk and your posture. Only dancers are that graceful and have such amazing posture," She explained.

He let out a quiet "Oh," before stepping into the dance room. "When was the last time you danced?" She asked suddenly. Connor jumped a little, but quickly recovered. "Um, freshmen y-year of high school, so th-three years ago," He said.

She hummed. "Why did you stop?" She asked, fiddling with her pen.

He gave a low chuckle, the warmth draining out of his eyes. "Gay shamed," He said simply. She frowned and turned to look at him.

She studied him for what seemed like an enternity, her face a mask of anger. "You listen here, Connor Murphy," She said sternly. Connor shrunk back in on himself, preparing to be shamed again. God, he should have just kept his fucking mouth shut.

"My son is an openly gay man and I love him to pieces. I myself am not straight. I have a beautiful wife at home. This town is very accepting of us. They don't care who you love. They will accept you for you. I want you to feel safe here. I want you to at least know that in this little studio, you will always be accepted."

Connor's eyes were wide as saucers at the end of her speech. His eyes were shiny with tears, and he sniffed and wiped them away.

She softened. "Oh, dear, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," She said gently. He shook his head and smiled. "It's o-okay. It's nice to fi-finally have someone accept m-me. My f-family didn't," He said quietly.

She nodded understandingly. "Who else comes h-here?" Connor asked, eager to get the subject off of the other members of the Murphy family.

She hummed thoughtfully. "Two other young boys, Evan Hansen and Jared Kleinman. Evan Hansen writes and sings his own songs, and he has the voice of an angel, he just gets so embarrassed. Jared is a painter and an author. He's wonderful at each. Here, come with me," She said, leading him down the hall to the art room.

They stepped inside and Connor's breath was stolen. In the corner of the room on an easel stood the most beautiful painting Connor had ever seen.

It was two boys sitting on at hillside watching the sun set. They were holding hands, the soft yellow-orange washed over them like a blanket. The grass beneath them was a lovely, plush green, and Connor couldn't help but admire the sky.

The blue faded into purple, into pink, into orange, into the yellow of the sun. Little white stars dotted the darker blue of the sky, and the painting struck a chord with Connor. Why did it feel so familiar, like deja vu?

He shook his head slightly as if bringing himself back to the real world. He turned to her. "Hey, when do Jared and Evan come? I-I need friends. I di-didn't have any back h-home."

She smiled sadly at him. "Jared comes every other day at 12:30 and leaves at 4, when we close. Evan comes three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday. He tends to come earlier, about 10 in the morning, and he doesn't leave until 1 in the afternoon," She said.

He reached up to tie his hair back. "Does either of them come today?" He asked, tying his hair into a bun. She nodded. "Yes, Jared should be here in about 10 minutes. He's very punctual," She said, breathily laughing. Her eyes were glimmering with a spark of hope.

"Do you think you could introduce me? Maybe show him to me while I'm dancing and then we could talk?" Connor asked, finishing with his hair. He started to pick at his nails as he backtracked. "I mean you don't have to it just seemed like a good ide--"

She cut him off with a chuckle. "I'd be happy to. Now, the clothes you need are in the closet next to some CDs. Choose whatever you want, dear," She said, smiling warmly at him. He smiled back, his stomach knotting with the prospect of meeting someone new.

* * *

 

Connor twirled, his hair coming loose. It left so good to dance again, stretching his limbs, moving to the rhythm of the music. 

He didn't even notice when the door opened in the middle of his dance or when a gasp rang throughout the room, barely audible over the music.

He finished facing the mirror, his eyes closed. He opened them and they immediately locked on the boy behind him.

He turned around to face them. The woman stood next to him, but he was all Connor could see.

His chocolate-brown hair was adorably sticking up in every direction, his glasses were a bit crooked on his nose, and his mouth was forming a small "o". His cheeks were dusted with pink and his _eyes_. Half of one of his eyes was a light blue, while the rest was a luminant brown. His fashion sense was dreadful, but connor still thought it was utterly adorable.

"Hello," Connor said softly, his breath stolen by the magnificence in front of him.

"Hi," The boy whispered back.


End file.
